


Change

by i_amnerd



Category: The West Wing
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-10-22
Updated: 2014-10-22
Packaged: 2018-02-22 04:39:11
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,233
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2494772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/i_amnerd/pseuds/i_amnerd
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Sam,” He turns to you with a sigh, “Sam, some of us write great speeches. Some of us, however, have them thrust upon us by annoying speech writers. Are you aware of which category I am currently falling into?”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Change

**Author's Note:**

> Um... so this is a thing. I'm not really sure where it came from but here it is anyway.

You watch him as he paces back and forth outside the convention centre. You know that, if he could, he would prefer to be anywhere else in that moment. It's not that he doesn't like giving speeches, it's just that he doesn't like giving speeches. He's good at it. He loves being able to educate, to shape minds both young and old, to precipitate change through nothing more than a set of beautifully crafted words. He doesn't love giving speeches.

“Sam,” He turns to you with a sigh, “Sam, some of us write great speeches. Some of us, however, have them thrust upon us by annoying speech writers. Are you aware of which category I am currently falling into?”

“The second one, sir?”

“Damn skippy.” He pauses, taking a drag on his cigarette. 

Not for the first time, you find yourself wishing that he wouldn't smoke in public, then berate yourself for trying to curate his image. He is who he is and you wouldn't change that for a moment. A president's vices shouldn't reflect on his ability to do the job. 

“Where is Toby, anyway? I thought I asked for him to be here.”

You huff out a small laugh, “Back at the office. There was an... um... emergency. Josh needed him.”

“Hmm. You know, sometimes I wonder if Josh actually needs the rest of us. It's quite possible that he's single handedly running this country and the rest of us just haven't figured that out yet.”

“I think if Josh were running the country, we'd know about it.” You stuff your hands into your pockets and stamp your feet. It's cold. “He's not exactly... subtle.”

“You may be right there.” The President smiles knowingly at you, “Looks like it's just you and me then.”

You nod in the direction of the secret service and the guests still streaming into the centre, “And a few hundred of our closest friends.”

“Wouldn't it be nice if we could have one of these events without actually having to invite any of the guests?”

“I don't think we'd need the event in that case, sir.”

“Smart ass.”

“Yes sir.”

He smiles at you again, that fond smile that tells you he's only teasing, that it means nothing except friendship and trust. It seems incredible to you that the President of the United States would feel that way about you. As always, you find yourself marvelling at your presence here. 

You don't know what possessed Josh to ask you onto the campaign but you're glad that he did. It's that trust thing again. They trust you and that's a hard concept to get your head around.

These men, these powerful, intelligent, crazy men, trust you. They see something in you, something in your writing, that draws them to you. It's the same thing that draws you to them but no matter how hard you think about it, turning it over and over in your mind, you cannot put your finger on what it is. You're supposed to be one of the great minds of your generation but sometimes the world makes you feel small and stupid and unworthy.

“Sir?” You ask, frowning as your voice trembles, betraying your nerves.

“Yes, Sam?” His eyes twinkle as he notes your discomfort. You resist the urge to glare at him.

“Why did you become a politician?”

The twinkle races from his eyes and your heart sinks. Yet again, you've said the wrong thing, stumbled into one of those places that you're just not meant to go. Maybe you take after Toby a little too much; he's always too far over the line, even when it doesn't need to be crossed at all. He always has to push.

You start to apologise but to your surprise, he waves away your words, a thoughtful air coming over him. He opens his mouth to speak and you suddenly wonder if you're ready to hear this, “I don't know.” He says. It's a little bit of a let down but you try not to let it show, although you've never been good at hiding your emotions. He's not looking at you though and you take a moment to compose yourself as he says, “I wanted to change things. I wanted to make a difference. I wanted to... I wanted my life to mean something.” He turns to face you, “Why are you in politics, Sam?”

“You, sir.” The answer is simple and yet it surprises you even as it slips from between your lips, “You and Josh and... I was bored. I was bored and this is anything but boring. What I was doing... I earned a lot of money doing it but it was wrong. It was morally and ethically wrong. I was helping to hurt people, not help them. I wasn't fighting for anything. I wasn't... I wasn't...” You stop, “I don't have the words, sir.”

“Yes you do.” He looks at you, his face open, complete and utter faith in you suddenly plain to see. It's all a bit overwhelming.

“I...” You swallow hard, “I'm in politics because the status quo isn't good enough. People deserve to be helped, no matter why they need help or whether their situation is their fault or someone else's. Men and women should be equal, not just under the law but in our hearts and minds. The right to love and be loved, to show that love, shouldn't be legislated for or against. Women should be able to make their own choices about their own healthcare, their own bodies. Intelligence should be something to be celebrated and cultivated, not mocked and feared. Curiosity and inquisitiveness in even the most mundane should be instilled within our education system. Things need to change and... government is the place to start making that change.”

“See, I knew you had the words.” He pauses, blinks at you, drops his cigarette butt, squashing it under one foot and says quietly, “Put it differently.”

“Life is unfair but we can make it a little fairer.”

“There you go. You got it right that time. Sam, there is no right way. There is no way that things should be, only the way they were, the way they are and the way they will be. We can't change the past but the future is a blank page, just waiting for people like you and me to fill it. I know that sometimes you feel as if we're getting nowhere. As if all this is a useless exercise because it's not even that people can't change, it's that, deep down, they really don't want to. I'm not blind. We've had a rough few years, no one's denying that.” He sighs, “The thing is, Sam, that even when it feels like we're not making difference, we are. Believe me. If we can make a difference to just one person's life, then we've succeeded in our mission.”

You stare after him as he strides away, heading for the convention centre's auditorium. This is why you're in politics. This is why you're here. Because however much of a struggle it is, however much it tries to beat you to the floor until you feel like staying down forever, sometimes he says things like that and the world seems to light up with promise and hope.

“Ladies and gentlemen.” You hear, “The President of the United States...”


End file.
